Some weeks ago, I attended a dinner party organized by Chicks With Knives at Phyllis Stein Gallery. I had no idea what CWK's agenda was, other than that they offered a four-course meal for $45. But I wanted to support my friend Bil, who's one of the principals at the downtown art space. On this particular night, the chefs served raw oysters, chicken consomme with watercress, sausages seasoned with garlic and marjoram and an apple torte a la mode.
The menu was promising. And the ambiance -- dining under Deborah Martin's realistic paintings inspired by Polaroids she took on a cross-country trip to Small Town, U.S.A. -- was enlightening. The service, however, left much to be desired. CWK could only boast, until that night, of cooking for a maximum of 40 people in private homes. The double row of tables arranged in the gallery seated about 70 people. As such, the oysters came out grainy. That was the first cue that the night would be a rough one.
CWK wisely asked guests to BYOB. With Miguelito in New York for work, I rolled solo with a bottle of Perrier and a split of Piper-Heidsieck.
Disadvantaged by a ratio of about 3 servers to more than 70 guests, CWK was tardy in delivering the dishes. The consomme, clogged with tender bits of chicken and fresh watercress leaves, was lukewarm. Otherwise, it was flavorful and pleasant.
The circumstances for proper service were so dire that my tablemates and I had to schlepp our own sausages from the makeshift kitchen in the back of the gallery. Sadly, they arrived cool to the table. It was a pity because the mess of meat with sauerkraut, white beans and baby carrots was yummy.
In continuing with the theme of experimentation, the gallery owners arranged for one of their leggy friends to perform a high-end burlesque act choreographed to an urban dirge by Grizzly Bear. One minute, she cut a striking figure in a red jumpsuit. The next, she stripped down to Marilyn Monroe-worthy skivvies. One could argue that her performance embodied the mandate of The Food and Music Club. Yet, I would prefer to have any flesh exposed after my entire meal ended.
Our private dancer left a trail of blue glitter on the tables.
Finally, we were served a dish that was best when cold: a torte piled with thin slices of apple marinated for 24 hours and vanilla bean ice cream.
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